


Snowstorm Inn

by TheNinjaMouse



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Content, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Injury, OoF universe, a dab of panic and horror, nothing explicit but spicier than I usually write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28369728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNinjaMouse/pseuds/TheNinjaMouse
Summary: It's time to take a nice, relaxing trip to the Colorado mountains. Get some skiing in, eat some good food. Have some private time with your literal hot monster boyfriend.What could go wrong?
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Grillby (Undertale)/Reader, Shorby
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	Snowstorm Inn

Technically, this is a work trip. Technically, you tagged along on a very important ambassador meeting with some bigwig government people, to discuss yaddy-yaddah about stuff and things. It just so happened that this meeting came with provided lodgings at a very fancy ski resort up in the Colorado mountains with food, drink and equipment rentals provided for a four day stay. When Frisk asked if you wanted to be an ‘honorary ambassador’ and come along, you immediately said yes.

Sometimes it pays to be good friends with literal royalty.

And lucky for you, the offer was extended to just about everyone in your circle of monster friends, including a rather grumpy fire. Of course, getting Grillby to agree to come was a whole other matter. He finally said yes when you pulled out a magazine featuring the top chef who worked at the place and the different cuisine they had there.

Dealing with the plane to fly out of Daiport had been a task in and of itself. Convincing the airline staff that Grillby wasn’t a fire hazard was a nightmare and even after that matter had finally been settled, he had dragged his feet to the point of being literally dragged on, protesting loudly at being trapped in such an enclosed space for hours on end. He then spent the entire flight utterly rigid in his seat with his eyes closed.

Still, for his first flight, it went surprisingly well. It did help that the plane was one of those smaller, private ones that just held you and the monsters. Poor Asgore, too big to fit in any of the seats, had to make do with a cleared out section of floor. Frisk spent a good portion of the flight nestled on his lap, reading through various books.

To be fair…there was a bit of a scare when Undyne nearly opened up one of the emergency exit doors while you were all still up several thousand feet in the air. Fortunately, Alphys threw herself at her girlfriend with a mighty shriek that made just about everyone’s hearts/souls leap up into their throats. That incident caused Grillby to shove his face in your shoulder and keep it there until you all were safe on the ground.

Landing in Colorado and beholding the endless white that stretched before you felt quite like stepping into another world. Daiport isn’t exactly a winter wonderland; even when it does get cold and snows, it’s never more than a few inches at best and a light dusting at worst.

The monsters all stared over the sight with a pure childlike wonder. None of them had seen so much snow since they left the underground and the city of Snowdin with it’s magically created snow and cold. And never have they seen such snow with a sky stretching above it.

Papyrus and Undyne leap out into the falling flurries, scooping up the snow for a snowball fight that lasts until the vans arrived that would take you all up to the resort. Thanks to the fight extending to include all of you, the interiors of the vans quickly turn soaking wet, much to the dismay of the drivers.

You’re the lucky one who gets to sit right next to the living heater (even if he does poke fun at your red extremities and dripping nose). He can tease you all he wants, he still has to deal with you putting your icy hands up his shirt.

The resort itself looks like something out of a freaking picture book. It’s nestled in the heart of the mountains, all elegant reaching beams of thick wood and stone with massive windows and snow covered roofs. Smoke creeps from multiple chimneys, barely visible against the backdrop of glistening white all around it. Evergreen trees easily twice the size of any you’ve seen back home frame the entire cabin palace like a wild crown. A ski lift rises from one side, offering a direct ride up to the top of the mountain. As the vans continue up the winding road, you can see multiple small figures making their way down the slopes on skis and boards.

“You’re fogging up the glass,” Grillby says with a soft crackle of laughter.

You wipe at it with your sleeve. “Oh just look at it! I can’t wait to get out there.”

He leans against your shoulder, looking out. “Have you skied before?”

“A few times, long ago. Boarded too.” You smile wryly. “I was a kid, and it wasn’t exactly a happy family vacation each time, but I was able to go with my cousins on the easiest runs a few times. You?”

He snorts quietly. “No, Snowdin didn’t have mountains. Just forests and some cliffs. I used to see little ones pulling each other around on makeshift skis though.”

“You’re gonna try it, right?”

“Hm.”

“Come on!” You tug on his sleeve, thanks to the arm wrapped subtly around your waist. “I know you came mostly for the food, but you’ve got to at least give it go!”

“I don’t think a fire in the snow is a good mix.”

You nearly get whiplash from the speed at which you turn your head to stare at him. “You _lived_! In a town called _Snowdin_!”

“I never said my living there was the smartest decision I ever made.”

You continue to squabble about it until the vans pull up to the front doors of the resort. The double doors are massive, carved with illustrations of elk and other woodland creatures. When staff of the resort wave you off of taking in your own luggage, you join the others in entering the main hall.

You gape right alongside the others. This has to be some kind of portal to a fantasy realm because you’ve clearly just stepped into a great hall of kings. Great reaching arches of carved wood are placed along as support beams for the ceiling that stretches up easily ten stories above you. Each is decorated for the holidays with glistening garlands and bright orbs of color. A chandelier made entirely of antlers and lit with faux golden candles hangs in the center, casting light where the great windows high on the walls don’t reach. Along the far wall is an absurdly massive fireplace, bordered with natural stone. Grillby could easily crawl inside and have room to stretch if he so desired.

Going by the crackle of his own flames and the colors swirling there, it seems to be a real temptation.

Before the fireplace is an open sitting area, with enough plush couches and chairs to easily sit two dozen people. A café and coffee bar sits to the left of that. You can smell the tantalizing whisps of hot chocolate and some kind of meal sizzling away on the grill. On the right and a bit more in the center is what you assume is the check in desk.

Aside from staff, there’s only a few people lingering, and they all stare with dropped jaws as the entourage of monsters (and two humans) march in with all the noise and commotion that’s to be expected.

You’re all taken to a private wing. The center area is much like the main hall, just on a smaller scale with fewer couches. Though you do spy a generously sized beanbag that you immediately call dibs on. One wall is made entirely of thick glass that gives you a perfect view of the mountain and the ski run.

Undyne and Papyrus immediately run to it, smacking up against the window with heavy thuds. “Just look at it!” Undyne crows, her breath already causing the glass to fog. “Paps, I hope you’re ready to get your butt kicked in the race to the bottom tomorrow.”

“EVEN IF I HAD A BUTT TO BE KICKED, I WOULDN’T WORRY ABOUT IT!” he counters. “EVERYONE KNOWS THAT SKELETONS ARE BUILT FOR SPEED!”

“Um, m-maybe we should focus on um…learning so we d-don’t break our necks first?” Alphys pipes up timidly, looking far more nervous about the idea of strapping sticks to her feet than the others.

Toriel claps her hands together. “Well, no races are happening tonight. Let’s get settled and cleaned up and we’ll see about dinner.”

Dinner! Oh, the mere thought makes your stomach growl loudly. You elbow Grillby in the side when he snickers quietly before taking his hand and dragging him to the room you’ve been given. It’s pretty big, with a similar glass wall with pulled back curtains and a king sized bed fit on a thick wooden frame. There’s a private bathroom and a jacuzzi tub right out in the main room. Shame Grillby can’t join you unless you fill it lava or something. Oh well, at least you’ve got plans for that bed later.

For now, you clean up while Grillby unpacks and puts everything away in the provided dressers like some kind of _nerd_ before you head back out for dinner.

It’s a rambunctious, chaotic event. You love every minute of it. The food is amazing, the laughter and warmth of your friends just as filling and satisfying. And you maybe get into a bit of a foot war with Grillby under the table while he pretends to be utterly composed while asking the chef questions about his cooking techniques and prep. That’s fun too.

At least, until his hand snakes to your mid-thigh and gives it a squeeze, making you jolt and squeak and promptly turn red when everyone’s eyes turn to you questioningly. Jerk! You cough, making an excuse about food going down the wrong tube and quickly spoon another bite.

It takes a good long while, but one by one everyone drifts off to their rooms for the night, sleepy from full bellies and a day of traveling. Once you and Grillby reach your room, you flop face down onto the bed. A gentle stretch makes the bones of your back pop nicely. Oh yeah, that hits the spot.

Warm fingers tickle at the small of your back where your shirt has ridden up slightly. You make a weak groan of protest, cracking an eye open. “Wow, let me digest first at least.”

“You should change.”

“Is there a point?”

“You’ll be more comfortable if you change first,” is all Grillby says, though there is indeed a flicker of blue to his face.

“Hmm.” You force yourself up. “I suppose you’re right.”

You take your time in the bathroom. Put lotion on, scrub your teeth until the mint takes over your breath entirely, brush out your hair and put on your ‘cute’ pj’s. Make Grillby wait a little bit.

He’s on you the moment you open the door. Your breath escapes in a gasp as he sweeps you up, one hand hooked around the back each knee as he hauls you to his waist. You give no hesitation and grab his face, pressing your lips against his fiercely. It’s so easy to get lost in the heat and the spice and the _taste_ of his fire, you barely notice that you’re moving until your back presses against the icy cold glass of the window. The shock of it sends a shudder racing up your spine.

“You okay?” he murmurs against your mouth.

You nod quickly, grasping at his neck. “It’s cold,” you sputter. “A-and someone might see.”

His fire pops and he puts his mouth on your neck. You groan at the sensation of his fangs nipping gently at your skin. “Let me take care of that,” he breathes.

He burns brighter, _hotter_ , washing you in a wonderful wave of warmth. Behind you, the glass fogs and it spreads, faster and faster and then you find you no longer care if some poor soul happens to look up and see you through the glass as Grillby sets out on his task of warming you up. It’s not long before you’re sweating, writhing and _desperate_ for more.

 _“Bed,”_ you gasp.

He growls deeply, the sound sending a delicious jolt through your stomach as he pulls you away from the window. The imprint of your back on the glass lasts only moments before it too fogs over, swallowed up in the growing heat of the room.

It stays fogged up for a long time.

~~~~~~

The next day after a rather uneventful ambassador meeting (during which you were fighting against the weight of your own eyelids after not getting much sleep), everyone gets geared up in winter wear and heads out to the mountain. The lodge has provided personal instructors for the group. Given the choice between skis and snowboards, most choose the skis when explained that skis are typically easier for beginners. You and Undyne both go with the snowboards.

You can’t help but laugh in wonder at the sight of the monsters getting used to the skis, especially since Toriel and Asgore both have custom made boots and equipment to fit their larger than human size. And oh the _joy_ you get seeing Grillby boot up is indescribable. He’s bundled up in a black and red coat, gloves on his hands and a scarf around his neck. His head however remains open to the air and it flickers and hisses in the cold mountain breeze.

Rigid ski boots secured, he wobbles as he fights to maneuver into locking them onto the actual skis. You reach out and steady him. “I gotcha, lean on me.”

He huffs quietly. “I’m already regretting the choice not to go with the snowboard for the boots alone.”

That may have been one of the reasons you went with the board. Yours are far more flexible and don’t have the specialty ridges that his do. “Yeah, but skis are gonna be easier to get used to quickly. I’m just a pro.”

“Right, remind me how many times you’ve done this?”

“…. Okay I’m a pro _surfer_ and…really, how different can they be?’

Quite a bit, as it turns out. There are similarities but while surfing requires you to constantly move with the uneven shifting of water, snowboarding doesn’t require the same kind of awareness. Instead, you find that you have to stop yourself from overcorrecting and use your actual feet more than your torso and arms. More than once, you wobble and fall back on your butt during the training runs on a small section of the mountain.

You’re not the only one at least. Nearly everyone takes a tumble or two, especially as they start gaining speed for the first time. Asgore’s beard is so matted with snow you can barely even see the gold of his hair anymore. Undyne crashes so spectacularly that she actually needs help being dug out of the snowbank she plowed into.

Perhaps strangest of all is seeing Sans on skis. And the freaking lazybones is actually a _natural_. He picks it up no problem and is soon skiing circles around everyone else.

“How are you so good at this already!?” you shriek from your awkward half stuck in the snow position after a fall as he sails past you.

“just a pro i guess?” he calls smugly, not even bothering to take his hands out of his pockets.

“You’re supposed to have the sticks!” you yell after him.

Since the skiing instruction didn’t start until later in the day thanks to the meeting, by the time the instructors have finished working with everyone and deemed you all ready to try out some runs on your own, there’s not too much time left before the sun sets. You quickly flag down some snow mobile drivers to help take everyone up (the lifts were not made for monsters of Asgore and Toriel’s size). Soon enough, you find yourself standing at the edge of the first green level slope, looking down a mountain of pure white, powdery snow. Grillby stands at your side and despite his groaning about it on the way up here, his dancing flames don’t lie. He’s just as excited as you.

You adjust your goggles and flash him a big grin. “Try to keep up, hot stuff.” Then you tilt forward and let gravity do its thing.

What hair isn’t caught under your helmet rushes out in the blast of icy wind that hits your face It’s so different from surfing! The ground changes yes but the solidity of surface under your board almost makes your head spin as you gain speed. You breathe out, let your knees bend and stay loose. The memories come back from your childhood. The scraping of the board when it hits those small patches of ice, the crunch of snow packing down under your weight.

It’s not surfing. But it’s still you, a board and (frozen) water. And that makes your Soul dance in your chest.

Then you catch a flash of light. Grillby’s already caught up. His stance is not one of a beginner, with skis pointed inwards to slow momentum but rather one of confidence and speed. You can’t see his grin from here but oh boy can you sense it in the way he flashes bright gold. He zooms in front of you, snow spraying as he turns just slightly.

That’s how he wants to play it huh? You crouch and lean forward, heart leaping as you gain speed and nearly fly over the ground. Soon you’re side by side, and you whoop loudly, pumping your fist.

That, of course, winds up being your mistake.

In surfing, your arms and upper body are such a huge part of keeping balance. Here, moving your arms even a little bit makes your board shift and sudden change makes you lose the rigid balance you had. Yelping, you wobble, wiggle, try desperately to get it back-

And topple over, sending up a massive spray of snow. The momentum has you rolling and bouncing out of control for several yards until you manage to drag your hands into the snow hard enough to slide to a stop. You sputter and gasp, trying to clear all the snow from your face.

Grillby, wobbling a little himself, drags his own skis to a halt. “Are you okay?” he calls, fighting not to fall over too.

You give a thumbs up. “I’m good!”

He sparks red and yellow and then, to your mild horror and great embarrassment, he bursts out laughing, leaning on his ski sticks for support. “What was that _noise_ you made?”

He’s gonna have to specify which noise he means; you squawked and hollered numerous times while spinning. You shrug.

“You did a complete cartwheel in the air; it was _very_ impressive.”

“Uh, yeah. Totally did that on purpose.”

“Oh absolutely,” he chortles. “So, who’s keeping up with who now, hmm?”

You narrow your eyes at him. You’re a jerk. You know it but…you scoop up a quick snowball and launch it. It’s a direct hit in the center of his chest and with a shout and waving of arms, Grillby goes down.

“ _Shore_!” he growls as you break out into only slightly evil cackles.

“Sorry!” you singsong through your giggles.

You see him reach for his own snowball and roll out of the way before it smacks you in the head. “Missed!”

You both jump as Undyne, just a blur of red hair and blue snowsuit zooms between you, like a giant, adrenaline pumped Sonic. “Get off your butts and get going!” Her voice carries easily, even though she’s a fair distance away by the end of her sentence.

“DON’T BE LAZY BOOOOONES!” calls the blurred shape of Papyrus not two seconds after her.

You both blink and then giggle at the same time. It’s a bit of a challenge to get up on your feet without sliding but you somehow manage it just as Grillby gets upright himself. You shuffle and hop closer to him to make sure he’s steady. 

“You ready?” you ask, wobbling like some kind of newborn fawn.

He nods. Then without warning, reaches over and gives you a gentle push that is more than enough to send you back down into the snow.

“ _Hey_ -!”

He winks. “Do try to keep up,” he says sweetly before pushing off to vanish down the mountain.

Oh. _Oh, he is in so much trouble._ You wiggle and hop back up and speed after him.

~~~~~~

That night finds you all sitting in the private lounge area of your wing, sipping on various drinks of hot chocolate, cider and stronger in some cases. The fireplace is going strong and the snow falling outside creates a soft, peaceful backdrop after a long and exciting day.

And Undyne is brandishing a spear.

“The rumors say that the creature of the mountain valley only walks at night, trailing after those who lose their way in the woods,” she intones in a haunted tone, using the light of her spear to highlight her face. “To save them? To eat them? That all depends on the color of it’s ever changing eyes! Yellow, they will guide you home. Red? _You’re doomed!”_

Papyrus, Frisk and Alphys all listen rapturously, staring as Undyne tells the tale of some kind of ghost or spirit that the folks who live around here believe in almost religiously. It’s an entertaining enough story, though it sounds more like some kind of bear that people have come across, which is scary enough on it’s own.

You’re sitting with your legs across Grillby’s lap, toes wrapped up in fuzzy socks. His arm is stretched out, fingers gently scratching at the base of your scalp.

“If you think a head rub is gonna get you out of your punishment for earlier, you’ve got another thing coming,” you murmur into your cup of cocoa.

He merely hums questioningly. You pull a leg back and dig your toes into his side. “Don’t ‘hmm?’ me, you jerk.”

“If I recall right, you’re the one who threw the snowball first.”

“You should expect that from me by now!”

“I certainly didn’t expect you to tackle me into a snowbank when you reached the bottom of the mountain.”

A grin tugs at your mouth. “Heh, I kind of did that on a whim.”

“Well, if that wasn’t my punishment, what exactly did you have in mind?”

It’s a true fight to keep your face straight as you lean closer and whisper _exactly_ what you have in mind in the softest, breathiest voice you can manage straight into his ear.

Grillby erupts into pure blue flame.

You lean back smugly against the arm of the couch as he buries his face in his hands. You sip your chocolate. “Sound good?”

Wordlessly, he nods.

You’re not quite sure how it’s possible, but you’re positive that the heated fog on the window that night is thicker than it was the night before.

~~~~~~

Someone’s taken a hammer to your bones. Or at least, that’s what it feels like when you get up the next morning. You ache, deeply, down to your core. Part of that is thanks to the previous day of skiing, yes but uh…

Well, maybe tonight you just need to sleep.

Fortunately, Grillby being the sweetheart that he is, slips you a little of one of his revitalizing drinks, filled to the brim with melted green magic and you breathe out a sigh of relief at the sensation of your muscles easing out of their stiff and cramped state.

You have to admit, you’re more than a little gratified to see him take his own swig of the mixture. The healing flare of green dances through his flames prettily. “Do you just keep bottles of that stuff on hand now?”

“Yes,” he says flatly, his look very clearly stating that you’re the reason why.

You lean over and give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Have I ever told you you’re my favorite?”

“I could stand to hear it again,” he says casually, as if goofy swirls of pink and blue weren’t coloring his face.

“Stop being gross!” Undyne calls from across the table.

“Hey Undyne, did you ever hear of The Bird? Allow me to show you it’s majesty and grace.”

_“Shore, do not-!”_

~~~~~~~

The sky is utterly overcast by the time you all gather yourselves up and head back to the mountain. The instructors are back for anyone who needs the refresher and warn you that there’s a decent possibility that the runs will close early thanks to a storm coming in from the west. The nature of these storms can very quickly turn into dangerous blizzards with extremely low temperatures and zero visibility, so they tend to stay on the side of caution in these situations.

A shame but it doesn’t stop everyone from making the most of the time available. Run after run, you make your way down the mountain with your friends. Tumbles are made, laughs are had and you’re pretty sure that the tip of your nose is on the verge of freezing off.

The temperature does drop drastically as the day goes on and the falling snow goes from flurries to a steady stream of flakes that makes it had to see more than a few yards ahead. By the time the call goes out that the run is closing in half an hour, most of your group has already called it a day and retreated back to the lodge.

You can tell that Grillby very much wants to do the same. The harder the snow falls, the more his flames hiss and spit at the falling moisture. He’s even had to resort to using a beanie on the top of his head, which is by far one of the funniest things you’ve ever seen.

You, Undyne and Paps want to give the slopes one more go before you call it a day. You pat Grillby’s shoulder while the other two try to decide which run to go for. “Hey, you can go ahead and head back. We’ll do this last run and then call it.”

He hesitates. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Hey, you know me,” you say with a grin before you sneeze.

Shaking his head slightly, Grillby takes off the scarf around his neck and wraps it around your face. It smells of smoke and charred spice. “I do know you, that’s what worries me.”

“You’re a worrywart, just go before you freeze up.”

Giving your scarf a last tug, Grillby turns and heads back to the lodge and you load up on the lift with Undyne and Papyrus. Squished between the two monsters, the three of you chat noisily about the day and the differences between this and surfing.

The run they’ve chosen is one of the higher intermediate ones. You went down this run once earlier with them and it was the one you had the most falls on but with all the fresh snow, you’re not as worried.

The lift reaches the platform, and you do the awkward hop, shuffle, and slide to avoid crashing into the other two. The top of this run has a small path that you have to follow before it opens up into the wider run and you remember from before having to really fight to get momentum going at the very start. This time, you keep your one foot free and follow the other two over to the start of the path.

Admittedly, this first part does make you a little nervous. One side of the path hugs a hill too steep to build into and the other side drops down into a very, very long drop into a forested valley below. There’s ropes up and warnings not to get too close to the edge.

Undyne, following in your lead, waits until you get closer to where the path actually slopes down to latch in her boot. “You two nerds ready to eat my powder?” she crows with a sharp toothed grin.

“Loser buys the drinks tonight?”

“SOUNDS FAIR TO ME!”

You all line up at the start. The wind is blowing strongly up here and you have to run your coat sleeve over your goggles to clear them. “Ready?”

“ _SET GO!”_ Papyrus leaps into action, pushing off with a mighty shove against the snow.

“HEY!” Undyne shrieks and the two of you are quick to follow.

Or at least, you are until you feel one of the straps on your boot pop open. Oh come on! You skid to a stop, wobbling a little. Your momentum took you a little closer to the drop off edge than you would like but you elect to ignore that, quickly bending over to try and fix the strap. Welp, looks like you’re the one buying tonight.

You don’t hear the ground creak. The wind is too noisy for that. But you feel it shift and freeze, looking around in alarm. What in the world-

The ground gives way. You don’t even have time to scream before you plummet down. You can’t _see_ , the world racing by in blurs of white and gray as you roll and hit branches and keep going down, impossibly fast until you smack into something solid and feel the bone of your arm snap. Agony rushes in, blinding and searing just before your body slams onto the ground and your head rams into something too hard to be snow.

Then you see nothing at all.

~~~~~

It’s the pain that wakes you. A terrible, blinding pain in your arm that pulls you out of the nothing of unconsciousness. You groan, barely able to breathe through the heavy weight that presses in all around you. It’s so _cold_.

It takes you far too long to gather up your thoughts and slowly, achingly rise from the snow onto one arm. It’s so thick down here that you had sunk several inches into it. Blearily, you pull off your fog coated goggles. There’s a massive boulder right in front of you. Shaking, you reach up to your helmet.

It’s dented and cracked. Oh _God_ , that could’ve been your skull. Nausea rolls in your gut and you attempt to move away from the stone. The movement makes another wave of that terrible pain spear up your arm and you cry out, hunching over. You have to breathe through the wave, waiting until it dies down just a little to look at your left arm.

It’s utterly limp at your side. Attempting to lift it at all only spikes the pain. Broken, it’s gotta be. Panting and wheezing, you shift as slowly as you can. It’s hard, given the board still attached to your feet. It’s still in one piece, so you roll over onto your back before scooting up so your back rests against the boulder that nearly killed you. Fumbling, you undo the straps and kick the board away.

The effort of that alone has your head spinning and you lean your head back against the stone. It’s hard to see anything at all. The snow is plummeting down, still thick through the trees but you think you can just make out the path of destruction you made falling down the side of the mountain. Without a doubt, it’s the thick snow that saved you from anything worse.

“Hey!” you scream hoarsely. “Can anyone hear me? Hello!”

Nothing but the wind answers back.

 _Crap. Crap, crap, crap._ Panic is quick to close up your throat and make your limbs shake. Easy, you’ve got to stay calm. You’re alive, and no doubt the others know you’re gone. How long were you out anyway? Doesn’t matter.

Phone, you have your phone! Fumbling with shaking fingers, you reach for the zipped up pocket you tucked it into. It’s ice cold. With a horrible twist in your gut, you attempt to open it up. The screen flickers once, twice, then snaps back to solid black.

“Shit,” you whisper. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, c’mon!”

There’s no point in swearing at it. Either the cold or the fall has killed it. You doubt you would’ve had service this far into the mountain anyway. You shiver as a violent gust of wind rips at you. Okay. You’ve got to plan. There’s very little daylight left. The storm is just about here, which means the cold and the wind is only going to get worse.

You could try to walk down the mountain. Not exactly an ideal move, given that darkness is already sweeping in. With no light and no way to see, you’ll only get yourself lost.

You look back up the mountain. It’s a long way up back to the ski run. It would be hard, but you might be able to climb and drag yourself up. If you could get up there to the lift runner’s box, you should be able to find some kind of radio or something. At the very least, it would get you out of the wind.

It’s that, or try to find some kind of shelter down here and wait. You look around. There’s plenty of pine trees that could potentially offer some kind of cover from the snow. But another thought comes into your head. These are wild woods and even with the ski resort right there, you have no doubt there are many creatures that live in the woods. Wolves, bears…even an elk could be dangerous if they happened to walk by.

You’ve gotta try climbing. You’re not going to sit around and wait for some bear to decide it’s in the mood for a Shore snack. No thank you.

First, you’ve got to deal with your arm. You reach for your scarf, feeling a sick pang hit your heart. Grillby’s got to be freaking out. You have no doubt he would have plunged out into the storm looking for you. For his sake, you hope the others were able to keep him inside.

You shake your head, fighting against the burning in the back of your eyes. No time for this, you’ve got to move. It’s going to be hard enough climbing; you’ve got to use the last of the daylight as much as you can. Pulling the scarf off, you make a rather sad looking knot out of the ends using your good hand and your teeth and put that end back over your neck.

Now comes the tough part. You breathe in and out a few times before you gingerly grab your wrist. Moving it feels like forcing knives through your skin and you can’t stop yourself from whimpering and sobbing through gritted teeth as you maneuver arm into the makeshift sling. Darkness dances at the edge of your vision. _No, come on, no passing out!_

You have to rest for a minute after you finally get your arm settled. Right. Time to go. Forcing yourself to your feet is a whole other battle that makes your head spin. You leave the board, instead opting for a solid enough stick that you tuck into the loop of your coat. Last resort, it might help you keep your grip if you start to slip.

So, head pounding, arm screaming and body shaking with cold, you start to climb. It’s not so bad at first. Steep, but manageable. But the further up you get, the harder it is to find solid footing in all the snow. It seems for every step you manage to take, you slip and slide back another three. You use branches, trees, anything that you can grab to pull yourself up.

You don’t even make it up halfway before the sun is gone. Fortunately for you, there is an emergency glowstick thing that Toriel had insisted on giving everyone. With your leg hooked around a tree growing nearly sideways out of the mountain, you dig it out and snap the stick to life. The glow it gives is weak and pathetic, but it’s better than nothing.

The stick gives you light, but there is absolutely nothing to be done about the cold. Your winterwear is meant for boarding and movement. It’s strong and thick but still lightweight. Once the sun is gone, the temperature plummets. The complete and utter cold cuts right through your layers. You have to keep moving because the moment you stop, your entire body starts to shake uncontrollably. The skin of your face is ice cold, raw and chapped in the merciless wind. Tears that are not completely from the blinding cold harden and freeze on your face.

It feels like you’ve been climbing for hours. Your pace is so slow that that may very well be the case. Since climbing straight up at this point is impossible, you’ve been forced to make zig-zagging paths up.

You’re so tired. You can’t see the top and you’re so _tired_ and _cold_. Every single breath in your throat is ragged, burning with the icy air that you breathe in. The only mild blessing of the cold is that you can no longer feel your broken arm. That’s probably really bad, but you don’t have the energy to much care.

There’s a large part of you that simply wants to sink to the ground and just sleep.

It’s a death sentence if you do that. If you sleep here, stuck in the snow with a throbbing head injury and a good chance of a concussion, you have a terrible feeling you won’t wake back up.

One step in front of the other. You can do that. Just one more step.

It’s a mantra you repeat. One more step. One more step. One-

 _Snap_.

You nearly miss the sound over the howling wind. But it’s loud enough that you can tell that it came from behind you. Shivering, you turn your weak glowstick, squinting into the dark.

Two glowing eyes stare back.

Your heart goes so high into your throat, you feel as though you may choke on it. No, no, no, come on, not now. “G-get!” you yell hoarsely. “Go away!”

The eyes don’t move. They don’t even blink. Fear spurs your legs into action. You keep moving, looking back every few feet to see that the eyes, while moving no closer, also don’t seem to get any further away. They just stare, two points of light in the dark.

You grit your teeth, fighting through the pain and the dizziness as you push yourself to move faster. You are not going to die out here damnit! You won’t!

It might be just a few minutes, it might be a few hours later of endless looking back and forth at the glowing eyes when you hear another noise on the wind.

“ _…ore_!”

Your head snaps up and you groan at the rush of dizziness that weakens your knees. Please, please let the voices actually be there. _Please_ let them hear you.

 _“Help!”_ you scream. _“I’m down here!”_

“Shore!”

_“Help!”_

Oh! You can see the light of flashlights up above! You keep screaming until they shift and angle down, blinding you with their brightness after hours in the dark. Your limbs go weak and you slowly sink down as a man in a bright orange rescue vest climbs down to you.

The rescue itself is a bit of a blur. You remember being hauled up, being put on a rescue sled and firmly strapped in. You seem to blink and then find yourself inside somewhere. Everything is fuzzy. Shouldn’t you be warm now? You’re still shivering, as if your very heart has turned to ice.

“Come over here, quickly.”

“Go slow, too fast can trigger shock.”

You feel someone lifting you, holding you. Then…the smell of smoke and fire fills your senses and tears run down your face as you feel the hand of the one you love stroking your face. You want to lose yourself in this warmth, this gentle embrace of heat that sinks into your frozen skin.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he murmurs.

You want to see him; you want to see his face. It’s a fight to open your eyes but you manage it. Grillby. He’s _here_ , he’s holding you. His soft golden eyes are tight, worried.

“…’m okay,” you mumble. You try to reach for him, hold him as tightly as he’s holding you, but your arm won’t move.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Yes.” 

“I’m cold.”

“I know sweetheart. I have to warm you up slowly.”

“That’s dumb.”

His small laugh sounds more like a suppressed sob. “Yes, yes it is.”

“Can I sleep?”

He murmurs quietly to someone you can’t see. Then, “Yes. You can sleep now. I’ll keep you warm.”

A small smile lifts your face as you turn your head into his chest and slip into a sleep that is warm and soft and safe.

~~~~~~

Your arm is broken in two different places, though you were extremely luck to walk away with just that and a mild concussion, according to the doctor that treats you. You did have hypothermia, but it would seem you made the right call in making the climb and keeping your body moving, rather than hunkering down in the snow.

From the way the resort staff and management apologize, one would think they were afraid they were going to get their heads chopped off by monster royalty. Though to be fair, in the face of Toriel, that doesn’t seem to be quite as far of a threat as you would want it to be.

You don’t want to push the issue of suing or whatever. It was an accident. A horrible, terrifying accident. But you do take their offer to pay your medical bills. You don’t have too much pride for that.

Lucky for you, with the combination of Toriel’s healing magic and Papyrus’ knowledge of bone structure, healing won’t take nearly as long as it typically would. They still have to go slow since forcing the bone to mend too quickly is likely to create more problems than it solves, which means you’re stuck with the broken limb for at least three weeks.

The thing that bothers you most is the eyes that followed you during that last stretch of time. When you mention this to Grillby in the van back to the airport a few days later, he goes pale and silent. You just know that he’s imagining a wild animal ripping into you.

“Easy,” you murmur to him. “It didn’t attack me, whatever it was. I’m okay.”

He runs his hand over his head, as if to smooth the agitated flames there. “Maybe it was that spirit Undyne was talking about,” he finally says, grinning weakly. “Guiding you back.”

“Guides typically work better if they’re in front, not…you know, being a terrifying, silent presence from behind.” Besides, the glow of its eyes wasn’t red, or yellow.

It was white.

It’s a question that you’re sure you won’t ever get the answer to. And you think you’re okay with that. For now, you just want to go back home.

You rest your head against Grillby’s arm. He rubs your head, soft and gentle and you drift off to sleep, safe and warm.


End file.
